“Maybe, but, for now, it works. And in twenty minutes, there’ll be hot water again.” One of the benefits of a tiny tank was that it heated up pretty quickly.
“How about I go put some coffee on?” I offered.
“How about you relax and I’ll go put the coffee on? Since I’m already dressed.”
The man was standing there, shivering, in a towel.
“I’d hardly call you ‘dressed.’”
“Oh, I will be by the time you get back into bed.” He winked.
“You don’t have to do the coffee,” I said.
He was already halfway to being clothed. The man did not mess around.
“I know, but I want to. Hop back in bed. Let me spoil you for a little bit.”
It was hard to decline that offer, so I didn’t bother. Closing my eyes, I replayed the night before in my head, instead of going back to sleep, like I intended. Instead of twenty minutes, I waited a full half hour before popping into the shower. I wanted to make sure the tank was good and full. Once the water was warm, I raced, managing to get done before the water did. I learned early on that you couldn’t wait for it to be hot before jumping in. That never worked out well.
When I joined Memphis in the kitchenette/everything-else room, he had made the coffee and found my little dishes, my pancake mix, and a ham steak I didn’t remember I had in the freezer. Everything smelled delicious, but nothing smelled as good as he looked.
“You need to be careful,” I said, kissing his cheek between his pancake flips. “I could get used to this.”
“I want you to be used to it.” His tone was serious, his eyes on me and not the pancake in mid-flip. Somehow it managed to be perfectly round anyway, something I failed to do while concentrating.
Way to go, Daddy.
“Are you sure? I can get kind of clingy.” This wasn’t exactly true, but, with him, if he gave me an inch, I could see myself slipping into that very easily.
“Who doesn’t want a clingy boyfriend?”
I could think of a thousand hypothetical people who wouldn’t, but my thoughts were hung up on the word “boyfriend.”
“Is that who I am?” I asked.
“I hope so. Unless you don’t like that term, then you can be something else. I’d like us to be exclusive.” He plated the pancakes, having what felt like such a serious conversation and still managing to make a delicious-looking meal. The man had daddy skills. I’d give him that.
I wasn’t one who dated a lot, but, when I did, I was a one-at-a-time kind of person. I was realistic enough to know that wasn’t the case for everyone, but it was easier for me to compartmentalize that way. But honestly, this felt like more than just “please don’t bang someone else.” Exactly what that more was, I hadn’t quite figured out.
“Yeah, I’d like that too.”
We ate breakfast together, and it was a nice blend of little and big. He cut my ham steak into bite-sized pieces, but I drank coffee. I used my divided dish, with one of the small sections for my syrup, and he used a big plate. We talked about all the yummy things we did the night before and how we wanted to do them again.
I’d never been like that with anyone else. It was either doing a scene or being our adult selves, and this in-between place was nice. I wasn’t in “little space” by any stretch, but I was enjoying some of the things I liked about being little, like having my syrup not touch my pancakes until the exact moment I wanted it to, and having bite-sized food on my plate that I could just scoop up and eat.
“Do you have plans for the day?” I asked, setting down my coffee.
“I was going to start by going back to my place for a swim.” He’d told me that was part of his routine. I could see how living in a place like that would make it very tempting to go daily, although his swimming was exercise and mine was basically playing in a large tubby. “Do you want to come? We can swim together.”
“I’m not a good swimmer.” I could make it across a pool widthwise, but it would be a struggle to do an entire lap. In the ocean, I doubted I could go half that distance.
“We could splash in the water together.” He set his fork down.
“That I can do.”
And that was how I found myself in my first rooftop pool, splashing, swimming, dunking, and playing all sorts of silly games with my boyfriend.
Our pool time continued what felt like our theme for the day of being not quite little and not quite big. The pool was the perfect way to round out our fabulous morning. I was looking forward to many more like this, and, if that was jumping the gun, so be it. Because I was holding on to this feeling for as long as I could. I’d be foolish not to.
